


Summer Storms

by ChaoticFayth



Series: Flash Rogues: D.A.R.E. AU [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, DARE officer AU, First Time, Gift Giving, Librarian Mark Mardon, M/M, Student Evan McCulloch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:52:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticFayth/pseuds/ChaoticFayth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Missouri is good for one thing, it’s the damned humidity. Which, inevitably, turns into rain at a second’s notice. Good ol’ Missouri.</p><p>And leave it to a wonderfully mild Sunday to end in a night of thunderstorms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Storms

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a full 3 years ago, at the height of the creation of the DARE AU, so my writing looks weird? Really weird. But I'm not changing it because I don't want to change the source material--and I know if I start changing it it'll end up twice as long. So have it in its redundant word usage and weird verbage glory.

If Missouri is good for one thing, it’s the damned humidity. Which, inevitably, turns into rain at a second’s notice. Good ol’ Missouri.

And leave it to a wonderfully mild Sunday to end in a night of thunderstorms. 

That doesn’t mean that Evan isn’t ready, however. It just means that by the time he’s snuck out of his own house and ended up on Mr. Mardon’s doorstep, he’s soaked to the bones, clutching a package triple-wrapped in plastic bags and duct tape. It’s not the first time that he’s been to Mark’s house, but it’s the first Sunday, and the first night since Mark gave him the “stop by whenever you want” open invitation. At least the shivering from the cold covers up his quakes of excitement. No use making an ass of himself.

It’s careful, slender hands that manage to pry Evan out of a sopping wet hoodie and the mostly soaked clothes beneath it. Once the hoodie is off, Mark decides that it’s better if Evan changed entirely, and clicks the thermostat a little warmer as he guides the younger man up stairs and to the master bedroom. Evan’s still clutching the strange package to his chest as Mark fishes an old pair of sleep-pants and an oversized t-shirt from the bowels of his closet - both of which end up being far too large for Evan, but it’ll work for now, they decide. It’s only when Evan moves to undress and re-dress that Mark manages to get the package away from him and carefully open it. 

Layers of plastic and tape wrappings later, and there’s a leather-bound book in Mark’s hands. Old, certainly loved by previous owners, and it’s obvious that Evan had spent some time in antique stores and flea markets - of which the area was known for - hunting it down. One of the earlier editions of one of Twain’s novels. Mark’s hands grace the cover reverently, marveling at the careful details, the age-old craftsmanship.

The only thing that manages to snap Mark back to reality is a nervous question, an inquiry of whether or not Mark likes it, if it’s alright or not stepping over too many boundaries to get him a gift so soon. And Mark smiles as he moves to put the book in the chest at the end of his bed - nestled carefully atop a beloved quilt - and closes the lid.

In fact, Mark doesn’t have any words for Evan, not now. It’s all he can do to cup the younger man’s face in his hands and kiss him, tenderly, on lips still cold and damp from rain. Even the most tender of kisses make Mark’s heart race - thoughts of yes, he’s legal, but he’s a student for fuck’s sake and what are you doing–?

But Mark doesn’t stop kissing him.

No, he’d managed to convince himself away from stopping long ago. Back when he’d first seen Evan’s flushed cheeks and that gap-toothed smile after the fact. Devious as it’d been then, it wasn’t now. It was a smile of relief that graced Evan’s features now, his still-shivering hands gripping at the sides of Mark’s sweater, clinging for dear life as though he’s afraid that Mark will toss him back out into the rain.

Tossing Evan out is exactly what Mark doesn’t do. Instead, there’s an ushering of getting the younger man onto the bed, and Mark resigns to warming his younger partner with his own form, hands caressing awkwardly lanky limbs, fingertips scrabbling up beneath an oversized t-shirt to smooth over the barest of pudge upon Evan’s torso. And Mark’s mouth finds Evan’s throat, his jaw, a warm tongue sliding over slowly warming skin. The shirt on Evan has barely had enough time to warm to room temperature before he’s shucking it off nervously, only for Mark to soon dip down and trace Evan’s collarbone with his tongue.

It’s Mark that pauses, begins to second-guess his actions, though Evan doesn’t give him enough time to finish his thought. No, Evan all but pleads that the man continues, hands pawing at Mark’s sweater, trying to drag it off, and that’s all it takes. Soon Evan is bracing a hand against Mark’s headboard and pushing down, thighs squeezing tight around the other man’s waist. Mark pets slender fingers up Evan’s form, a trail of fuzz up torso until he shifts, pulling Evan up and into his lap. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and Evan’s hands end up in Mark’s hair - a thing he’s so wished to do since he first caught glimpse of such majesty - before Evan’s arching forward, face pressed into Mark’s neck and shoulder, hands tightening - and Evan will have to try to remember that that’s what does it for him, that Mark tugs against those hands in his hair and that’s all it takes.

The towel that Mark had originally snagged from the hamper in the hall to use on Evan’s hair gets utilized for other purposes, and as Evan lounges in a surprisingly plush and comfortable bed for such a long and pointy individual, Mark only pauses in is room long enough to set a morning alarm. Shower before school and - he supposes he’ll be taking Evan with him, won’t he? Wouldn’t be the last time, he supposed.

And it’s not a moment later that Mark crawls back into bed, pleased that Evan migrates right to him, limbs flopped over the older man, face pressed against jaw, breath warm on skin damp from something other than the rain.


End file.
